Bent (but Not Broken)
by Toraptor
Summary: A shinobi's heart is not worn on his sleeve. A shinobi does not show emotion. Yet, there may still be something in Orochimaru that is utterly, infallibly human-if it can only be given a chance to grow.


_A shinobi's heart is not worn on his sleeve._

It is a singular truth that I live by, something that is far more like habit to me than the necessary evil others make it out as. Long ago, I carved the heart out of my chest and hid it somewhere far away, where neither myself, or any other, could hope to find it. A heart doesn't make a blade swing, nor does it strike the finishing blow in battle. It is not my heart that stares my enemy in the face and ends him.

Others find this way of existing strange, even distasteful, and I cannot bring myself to understand why they think that way. While this ability to shut out emotion and ignore that little voice Jiraiya so insistently tells me is called _conscience_ comes to me easier than other shinobi, it is hardly a novel concept. From the moment we're enrolled into the Academy, we're taught to fight, to kill—and not once are we told to feel.

Their sideways glances and the way they flinch if I'm near them, while occasionally irritating, isn't difficult to ignore. Suspicion is an old friend and nothing I'm unused to, going all the way back to my childhood. My family was anything but normal and we've always roused wariness in the people around us.

 _A shinobi never shows his emotions_.

This is something I have never made an exception to until meeting Hatake Sakumo. He's a gifted fighter, just as clever with his words as he is with the weapons he wields, and it is oh-so-surprising when I find myself dangerously close to at ease while in his company. Surprising and not entirely unwelcome, but that is not something I'm used to pondering over, so it's more or less shoved away and forgotten.

Sakumo has a child, a young boy called Kakashi who resembles him in image and that's just about it. There's more often a look of disgruntlement on Kakashi's face than a grin, nor does he seem to have picked up on Sakumo's incorrigibly flirtatious side. It's for the better, because if I had to deal with more than one Sakumo, I may just gut them both.

"Orochimaru!" Sakumo calls, and it's _fascinating—_ because I honestly cannot tell if he wants to head out for dinner, or start another sparring session.

He tosses an arm around my shoulder, jostling my hair from the ribbon it's tied back in. This is something that has happening frequently lately and I'm beginning to think he's doing it on purpose.

Sakumo gives my shoulders one last squeeze before he releases me, rushing to snatch up Kakashi, who looks very displeased with the treatment he was receiving.

We end up going out to eat, something I might have despaired over any other day—there are two experiments that really need tending to back in my personal lab—but I know he's heading out for a mission tomorrow. It wouldn't hurt to humor him every once in a while and if watching Sakumo and Kakashi smile and laugh is strangely fulfilling, I can take solace in the fact no one will ever know.

The next morning, Sakumo leaves for his mission. When he returns, a week later and surrounded by his comrades, it's not with a smile that he greets Konoha.

I hear it later, in the whispers and heated glares that are pinned on Sakumo's back, that his mission failed. Only after investigation do I learn the mission failed because he chose his teammates over the objective. While the mechanical shinobi in me says the mission should have taken priority—the human part of me that Sakumo had grown through laughter and fearless conversation knew he made the right choice.

 _A shinobi's heart is not worn on his sleeve_.

It's the heart that should have been carved out of my chest decades ago that brings me to him, and it's that same heart that fills with distress upon finding a despondent and crippled man, so unlike the Sakumo I have come to respect.

Emotions and encouragement are not a language I understand, but Sakumo is one of the few people in the world I'll reach out for, and for that alone I have to try.

He is lost and ashamed, in so much pain that he wants to let go—but I am selfish, have been and always will be, and I'm not ready to part ways with him. I've said premature goodbyes to far too many people in my life and perhaps, just this once, I want someone to linger a while longer.

Sakumo taught me that shinobi does not mean machine, so I will teach him that bent does not mean broken. Sakumo forged this thing called a bond between us, and I will keep it tethered close between us. Sakumo, Kakashi, and myself—the three of us are more than a village, more than a country.

He's curled in on himself and inexperienced with the finer parts of comfort as I was, an embrace is simple enough. We're both human, I can accept that now, but as humans we are as different as night and day. And for that, the village's treatment is all the crueler, because Sakumo doesn't deserve their blame or anger.

"Perhaps this is a day of failure for all us," I say, wryly amused, and part of me feels that he understands.

It's failure because my heart is still there, beating steady and surely in my chest, and for that I have never been so glad to fail in my life.

Perhaps a shinobi's heart is not worn on his sleeve, but it is kept close to them, buried deep and always hidden. Hidden, but alive. We are strong, an island amongst people who will scorn and hate us, but for all their dissent, we will only grow stronger.

* * *

 **Just an exploration of Orochimaru's character in a world where he's influenced by other people! Inspired by most of Blackkat's fics, so if you liked this, definitely go check her out both here and on AO3! :D**

 **(And if anyone's here from my other fic: Yes, I'm working on updating. I know it's been a long time, but shit happens.)**


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